#conscio

[sophiaepsiche]

Le due facce del dolore

"Perché in alcune tradizioni il dolore è esaltato, quasi cercato direi, e in altre è considerato qualcosa da superare?"

Perché sono le due facce della stessa medaglia.

Per prima cosa ricordiamo che la gestione del dolore è importantissima perché il dolore è l’emozione spartiacque tra i sentimenti di pace e quelli di distruttività. Non gestire il dolore porta alla distruttività, trascenderlo perfettamente porta all’amore e alla pace. Tra questi due estremi ci sono tanti gradi diversi di gestione: da quella puramente psicologica, ai primi tentativi di elaborazione in solitaria, che portano alla creatività, a quelli di presenza mentale, tipici della meditazione, fino ai risultati di trascendenza.

Chiunque abbia già una buona capacità di trascendenza del dolore ‘personale’ comincia a star meglio degli altri, non perché gli giungano meno colpi o abbia meno ostacoli ma perché li supera sempre meglio. Su questo mi soffermo un attimo per farvi notare che è sempre la pratica ad elevarsi e migliorare, mai il resto. Nessuno dovrebbe mai porsi limiti sulla pratica, i limiti dettati dalla natura umana sono più che sufficienti. Sappiamo teoricamente che esiste un grado talmente ottimale da non richiedere più uno sforzo ma il modo di arrivarci è di praticare sempre. I miei maestri, che non finirò mai di ringraziare, sono chiarissimi su questo punto.

Più capiamo che è la consapevolezza a risolvere tutto, meno la lasceremo andare. Meno la lasceremo andare e più risolverà tutto.

Tornando al dolore, quello che succede in chi supera ormai facilmente quello personale è molto importante: può cominciare a trascendere il dolore collettivo. Avendo compreso il carattere spartiacque del dolore, capirete che questo significa cominciare ad eliminare la distruttività dal mondo. Capite l’importanza evolutiva di queste persone? Forse no e purtroppo non si può dimostrare. Comunque, sebbene sia proposto in modo diverso nelle varie tradizioni, è una cosa naturale ed è presente in ogni insegnamento.

In oriente è generalmente più esaltato l’effetto positivo delle pratiche meditative: la serenità, la calma, la pace e si tende a dire meno che il realizzato è una specie di ‘macchina mangia karma’. Si sa che è così e gli stessi illuminati a volte lo ammettono ma si dà più risalto al fatto che ne rimangono imperturbati. In occidente, soprattutto nel cristianesimo, è più esaltato il concetto di sacrificio, dell’offerta del dolore a Dio per salvare l’umanità, nello specifico per salvare ‘i peccatori’. Capisco che la terminologia cristiana è meno moderna e allettante ma è esattamente ciò che avviene. È formulato diversamente ed ha una sua peculiare missione per la salvezza dei distruttivi, che nelle altre religioni non c'è. Qui i concetti di ‘salvatore’ del mondo, per quanto riguarda Gesù, e di ‘co-redentori’, per i santi, sono da prendersi, per quanto mi riguarda, alla lettera. I santi non invitano il dolore per masochismo ma per consolidata capacità di trascendenza e il fatto di farsi carico del dolore di altri per offrirlo a Dio rappresenta il loro motivo, ad imitazione di Cristo, esempio più straordinario mai giunto al mondo di tale capacità d'amore e di sacrificio per gli altri.

Il bilanciamento tra i due atteggiamenti apparentemente diversi, negli insegnamenti, è da cercarsi nell’eterna lotta tra conscio e inconscio. La pratica non è altro che questo.

La barriera del ‘personale’ è già molto ridotta nei praticanti esperti e le sensazioni in entrata, anche negative, non vengono neanche sempre percepite come proprie. So di ripetermi ma non è l’inconscio ad essere collettivo, è il collettivo ad essere inconscio. Qualsiasi sensazione salga al conscio, a prescindere se accompagnata o meno dalla sensazione ‘personale’, è un fenomeno collettivo. Questo il praticante esperto lo sa solo più degli altri.

Quando si presenta un’emozione sgradevole sa restare pienamente attento e fermo, in perfetta comunione con essa, determinandone la scomparsa.

Più fa questo, per i sentimenti, e più capisce e si allontana dal pensiero psichico, più acquisisce una sorta di trasparenza, dovuta proprio alla mancanza di barriera ‘personale’. Tale barriera, il nostro ego, è infatti solo un insieme di pensieri incessanti che riguardano il personale e di resistenze inconsce alle sensazioni che non vogliamo, il che sfocia, a seconda della gravità, in vari gradi di distruttività. Più va via la sensazione personale, più importante diviene il ruolo evolutivo dell’individuo per la collettività e più grande è la pace che egli prova. Questo è il secondo punto d'incontro che, nonostante la differenza tra terminologie, troviamo in tutti gli insegnamenti.

La pace è la meta di tutti.

‘Vi lascio la pace, vi do la mia pace’ dice Gesù. Anche se più sottolineata negli insegnamenti orientali, la pace è il risultato per tutti e, per fortuna, non è solo la meta finale, perché ogni tentativo di trascendenza, o anche di mera elaborazione del dolore, sarà ricompensato da una pace mai provata prima. Questa ricompensa spetta a qualsiasi praticante di qualsiasi livello. Intraprendere davvero questo cammino vuol dire cominciare ad accumulare talmente tanti vantaggi da non poter più neanche immaginare di vivere come prima.

Questa pace è da guadagnarsi interiormente attraverso ciò che, nel linguaggio meditativo, è presentata come ‘igiene mentale’, e, in quello devozionale, è espressa come ‘coscienza pulita’. Sono la stessa identica cosa. Qualsiasi sia il tuo maestro e la tua tradizione, o anche se non credi a niente e nessuno, la pace puoi averla se pulisci i contenuti psichici. Per farlo devi renderli dapprima consci, ed ecco le due facce della medaglia: la prima faccia del dolore non è tanto gradevole e dobbiamo imparare in primis ad accoglierlo, senza condanne o giustificazioni, senza resistenze, altrimenti non sale al conscio. Quando si presenta va ‘cercato’, proprio come dici nella domanda. Dopo tale accoglimento e in virtù di una totale comunione viene poi trasceso o ‘superato’… e arriva la pace, la seconda faccia del dolore.

Se si è molto pratici i due aspetti diventano quasi impercettibili, poiché meno c'è resistenza più c'è trasparenza.

Quando la purezza aumenta, infatti, si comincia una pratica più profonda in cui si trascende l’ego stesso e non più i contenuti psichici. Diverse tradizioni danno diversi nomi a questa pratica: ‘dimorare indipendente’, ‘dimorare nel sé’, dimorare nella ‘vacuità’, nel ‘silenzio’, nel ‘cielo’ dell’anima, nella ‘consapevolezza’, nell’‘auto-attenzione’, a volte lo chiamo samadhi. Qui si comincia a morire alla carne e a rinascere allo spirito. La sensazione di essere materia va via e l’evanescenza rivela la nostra vera natura. Che lo si chiami spirito, coscienza, consapevolezza o non lo si definisca affatto non importa, la cosa essenziale è che questa leggerezza la sperimenterai tangibilmente ogni volta che trascenderai il dolore, a qualsiasi livello lo farai, e potrai spingerti fin dove vorrai, anche fino al punto di non volerla più lasciare!

La teoria da sola non ha mai portato la pace a nessuno, la pratica sì.

Buona sperimentazione!

[elbiotipo]

I hate that in the popular vision of biopunk, "biological machines" and biotech look like gross body horror nonsensical pieces of crap with no rhyme or reason

(bioforges from Orion's Arm)

When the most efficient "biomachines" we know, able to turn mere air water and sunlight into all sorts of useful products, look like this:

[littlehatmouse]

i never post on here and i feel bad so i will throw some sketches at you

[meissashush]

So, something new to keep track of.

The tags Niji and Nijijourney are in reference to AI art.

I'm not going to stand on a soapbox and try to sway anyone's minds about anything, but I personally don't enjoy engaging with or seeing AI art. There's too many ethical concerns and not enough oversight. If I see someone using it, they're being blocked. If I accidentally reposted any work containing it before realizing it, I'm sorry and I will look to remove it.

Artist block sucks, but I'm not using AI to write my fics and I don't enjoy seeing it in art of any kind.

Make your own decisions, and make your own damn art.

[spettriedemoni]

“Rendi conscio l’inconscio e smetterai di chiamarlo destino”

(C. G. Jung)

[kailasakalpataruchinese]

帕冉马希瓦一级课程｜2023年4月13日 第7天

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[elllisaaa]

how seventeen would confess to you - hhu vers.

-> pairing : svt hhu × gn!reader

-> words count : 2.9k words

-> genre : svt members crushing on you, fluff

-> warnings : while make you giggle and kick your feet

-> sorry if I made any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | svt masterlist

hhu vers. | vu vers. | pu vers.

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL - INTIMATE

cuddles, cuddles, cuddles !

once he tackled you on the couch or bed and you’re in his arms, you’re not getting up for at least an hour. 

watching long shows together, and you’re forbidden from watching even one episode without him, or he’ll get so pouty. 

big golden retriever energy, he’s always so smiley around you.

but also big on protecting you.

he’s the type to say “dress how you want, i can fight”, and he will definitely fight if needed.

always has an arm around you, making you feel safe in every situation

since both of you are friends since as far as you can remember, he’s like another member of your family.

i can literally picture your aunts asking you when you’re gonna marry him at every gathering lmao

with all of that, the line between friendly and romantic feelings is blurred, but cheol wished he had the courage to fully cross it. 

however, everyone and their mothers knew about his big crush on you, and about yours on him. 

his confession would be so domestic crying because i’m lonely. 

It wasn’t uncommon for you to cross paths with Seungcheol late at night. Just like you, he often got thirsty and you always ended up staying in the kitchen until the early hours of morning, and being sleepy at the family gathering. And this time was not different. Well, it was, in fact, a bit different. You had been aboard for the past year and only got back to Korea a few weeks before, so both of you hadn’t really seen each other and you had a lot to catch up on about your lives. 

“- And after that, this bitch didn’t even dare to look me in the eyes for the rest of the year ! Can you believe this ?

- I don’t like to judge people I don’t know, but she’s indeed a bitch.”

Both of you bursted out in laughter, and your heart felt warmer again. It was as if you were finally complete again. Being away from Seungcheol when he had been by your side for the majority of your life was the most difficult thing you ever had to do, and feeling him slip through your fingers as he started to respond less was horrible. He apologized so many times about how busy he was, and you knew it was not his fault, but still, you just wanted to be back home, back in his arms. 

“- Yeah, she definitely is.”

You landed your head on his shoulder with a smile, and Seungcheol feared that you would hear how fast his heart was beating. He was happy for you when you announced to him that you had the opportunity to go aboard for your studies, and he was immensely proud of you. But at the same time, all he wanted to do was convince you to not go and keep you forever with him. But he was only your best friend, and he couldn’t ask you to give up on your dreams for him. But he wished he could be your boyfriend instead. 

“- I have something to confess…”

You lifted your head from his shoulder, looking at him as you waited for his next words. Seungcheol eyes’ dived into yours, and he just knew. He knew that this was the right time, that the particular atmosphere surrounding the two of you would certainly never arise again. He had to do it now.

“- The day you left, I came to say goodbye at the airport, remember ?”

You nobbed. How could you not ? He had engulfed you in a big hug  that made you want to stay, and left you with teary eyes as you got on your flight.

“- I never told you what I did after. I drove off to the park we always played at when we were kids, and I cried on the swings for maybe two hours because all I could think about was that you were not with me. And it felt so wrong.”

Your right hand found purchase on his cheek, forcing him to look down at you as he consciously avoided your eyes since he started to tell you his little story. But your soft smile was the only reassurance he needed.

“- It felt wrong being away from you too. I missed you so much Cheol…

- Me too…”

And just like that, you both leaned in at the same time, your lips meeting in between and suddenly, everything felt right again, as if it was where you were supposed to be - in each other arms. 

“next time i’m squeezing myself in your luggage, i don’t want to spend another night without you in my arms.”

JEON WONWOO - SIMPLE

i don’t know how to explain it, but I’m sure you’ll get it when I say that this man is the definition of soft. 

he’s so cozy, every one of his hugs feels like a warm cocoon (that’s why you always find an excuse to get a hug).

very good at giving advice, and a good listener, he’s always there when you need a shoulder to cry on. 

you were friends with the other members at first, but slowly, you started to grow closer when he discovered how sweet and lovely you were. 

the more he talked with you, the more he found himself hooked.

literally has heart eyes for you (everyone and their mothers know about his crush on you) and would drop everything if you need him.

of course, he’ll be more than happy if you agreed to play video games with him, it doesn’t matter if you’re good at it or not 

it’s even better if you never played, he’ll have an excuse to make you sit on his lap while he teaches you how to use the controller. 

but in the end, he’s a simple guy, and he doesn’t see the point of hiding his crush for too long, but he also wants his confession to be meaningful. 

The boys had organized a big party for your birthday this year, and surprisingly, they succeeded at keeping it a secret until tonight. And the past months spent trying to perfect every little detail was worth it when they saw the big smile on your face and your teary eyes when you recognized your friends and family as you walked through the room. 

And even if Wonwoo couldn’t be more happy than seeing you wander around, laughing and smiling non-stop, he felt a weight on his heart. He wanted to steal you away from all these people, have you all for himself and finally tell you how he felt about you, finally tell you how glad he was to have you in his life. But he couldn’t, and he would never do that. He was just waiting patiently for your eyes to meet in the crowd, and for you to smile brightly at him. Every time you did that, his heart beat faster. 

“- Finally ! I’m so happy that everyone came, but I’m exhausted !

- I can imagine, you’ve been running around the whole night.”

You sighed dramatically as you seated yourself on the couch next to Wonwoo, resting your head on his shoulder. Like a habit, he put his arms around you, bringing you closer to him, just because you were so comfortable around each other that everyone else thought you were already dating. 

“- It’s the best surprise of my life. You guys are my favorites. Thank you for doing this for me.

- You deserved it, that and all the presents we prepared for you.”

You lifted your head from his shoulder, looking at him with a sparkle of curiosity in your eyes. 

“- And what’s yours Wonwoo ?”

He had planned to do it later, when everyone would have left, when he’ll have a moment alone with you. But if this wasn’t a sign that he had to do it now, he didn’t know what it was.

“- It’s not something material. It’s more… Spiritual I’ll say.

- It’s intriguing, tell me what it is.

- My heart. I’m offering you my heart, because you already have it, you did for a long time now, and I wanted to let you know, just in case you were feeling the same about me.”

Wonwoo knew how emotional you could get, but he didn’t expect you to cry from his confession. Still, he wiped your tears away, waiting for you to calm down with a soft smile on his face.

“- I feel the same, I’ve been feeling the same for so long. You have my heart too.”

“I’ll take care of it, I promise. I’ll always protect you.”

KIM MINGYU - JOYFUL

100% golden retriever energy

you would often tease him along with the members (because we all know that seventeen ultimate goal is to make fun of mingyu)

partner privilege : would not get as pouty as with his members, all it takes is a smile from you and you’re forgiven.

however, when you tease him about how being so muscular but so afraid of everything is a shame, he’ll be like a child throwing a tantrum. 

pouting until you compliment him (and cannot stop blushing once you do, he’s so cute someone help me).

tries to impress you all the time by flexing his muscles, showing how strong he is. 

he’s so obvious please, this boy cannot hide his love for you.

follows you everywhere like a lost puppy, just in case you need him (he’s adorable).

he feels so comfortable around you because beyond all the teasing, you’re very understanding and kind. 

you’re always here to remind him how amazing he is every time he doubts himself. 

and because he feels so comfortable around you, his confession would slip like it was the most natural thing ever. 

Mingyu always had a tendency to show off his skills whenever you were in the same room as him. Yes, he felt an incredible ego boost when you complimented him about his muscles, but what he took real pride in was how much he was able to make you laugh. He always feared that his jokes were lame, or just not your type of humor, but every time he cracked one, you bursted into giggles. And by the way you were beaming, there was no way that you were faking it. 

And he always managed to make you laugh in all types of situations, chuckling and resisting the urge of kicking his feet like a teenager everytime you hitted his shoulder playfully as you tried to contain your own giggles. Mingyu was addicted to the way your eyes were glowing with joy everytime you just smiled. However, he discovered that the easiest way to get you to laugh was to tell you all the stupid things his members did. Like now, as you were crying from how funny you found the story of Seungkwan volley ball. 

“- He really only discovered it when he saw that video ?

- Yeah, really ! You should’ve seen the betrayal in his eyes, it was priceless !”

And you were laughing again, your head thrown back, tears almost spilling out of your eyes. But Mingyu wasn’t laughing anymore, too lost in his contemplation, because you were literally a work of art to him. Every single detail about you was perfect, the more he discovered, the more he wanted to be yours.

“- Your smile is so beautiful, gosh… I love you so much…”

The melody of your giggles died as soon as you registered the meaning of his words. Silence enveloped the both of you as you stared at him as if you were trying to enter his mind and find all the answers to your questions. And Mingyu was forcing himself to keep his mouth shut, and not embarrass himself further, already cursing himself in his head for being so careless.

“- Wha- What did you say ?”

Mingyu was too focused on his overthinking to notice the little grin spreading on your lips. Of course, you already knew that he had a crush on you. Of course, you had a crush on him too because who doesn’t ? And of course, it was very cute to watch him stumble over his words with red cheeks. 

“- I-I said that you have a beautiful smile…

- And after that ?

- Don’t want to tell you.”

You giggled as you leaned in to peck his warm cheeks, restraining yourself from going in for his pouty lips too.

“- Well, just know that I love you so much too Gyu.”

“see, you heard it perfectly ! but i’ll tell you a hundred times if you want me to.”

CHWE HANSOL - BRIGHT

he’s so random, like one minute he could joke along with you and the other he’s asking you the most existential question possible, fully serious about it. 

like we say vernon is just vernoning in the most vernon way possible. 

he's very chill about pretty much everything so it's really soothing to be around him.

he's your go-to person when you want to isolate yourself from the rest of the world because you could spend evenings just watching tv and not saying a word to each other

there's also times where both of you end up talking about your lives until the early hours of the morning. 

your relationship feels like it's all natural, there has never been an awkward state, only comfort. 

it's like hansol had known you for years because he felt so at ease every time you were with him. 

you made him feel like he was special and normal at the same time, and even if he doesn't show it often, he really appreciates it. 

you two liked to stay inside so it was rare for you to go out somewhere, but it was always unexpected and when it happened. 

hansol knew that you liked to be surprised, and often showed up on his days off to take you somewhere without telling you.

that's why you weren't shocked when he picked you up at 5 in the morning, on a random Sunday. 

“- Can I at least choose the music ?

- Go on.”

Hansol handed you his phone which was connected to the speakers of his car, letting you put on whatever song you wanted. He owed you this with how early he forced you to get out of bed on one of your days off. But he really wanted to take you to this spot he loved. He played it off as one of his random wishes, but he planned this in his mind for a long time, not all the details, but he knew he wanted to bring you there to tell you how he felt. 

He watched with a small smile on his lips as you opened the window, one of your favorite songs playing as you let the wind hit your face and make your hair fly all over your face. Hansol quickly focused on the road again, seeing that he was near your destination, he asked you to close your eyes.

“- Are we there ?

- Almost.”

The rest of the way was quiet, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you. When you finally felt that Hansol had stopped the car, you heard him go out of the driver seat to get to your side and help you get out too, ordering you to keep your eyes closed. He pushed you to take some steps forward before he finally authorized you to see what was in front of you.

“- You took me to the ocean ?”

You didn’t even turn around to look at him, too entranced by the sight in front of you. And all Hansol could do was smile when he saw how parkly your eyes were. 

“- I guess that I wanted you to see the sunset.”

You were rather speechless as Hansol got a blanket out of his car, leading you to the beach for you two to watch the sunrise on the horizon. He contemplated you as you ran around, touching the water to see if it was cold or not before finally sitting down beside him, your head finding his place on his shoulder, and his arms around yours.

“- Thank you for bringing me there… It’s beautiful…

- I wanted to make it special.”

Before you could even ask him what he was talking about, Hansol leaned in, his eyes fixed on your lips, and yours on his. Basking in the warm light of the sunset, he kissed you for the first time but certainly not the last, a smile spreading on his face as he rested his forehead against yours. 

“i think i could get used to this.”

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

svt taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@lil-kpopstan @hann1bee @iraisswiftie

[scritti-di-aliantis]

Se ti guarda così, con il mezzo sorriso di chi non accetta dinieghi, sii conscio del fatto che sei nel suo mirino: ti vuole. Ti avrà, è sicuro. Non fare lo spavaldo: non serve. Sei attratto da lei senza via di scampo. Ma la cosa comica è che non avrai più nessuna voglia di scappare, da lei. Una bella donna matura è il massimo della vita.

Aliantis

[ko-existing]

Seeing through the insubstantiality of consciousness and senses, then, ultimate enjoyment ensues.

by Being_is_IT / Twitter

Reader: Thank you for the suggestion. I have profoundly seen that it's unnecessary to form or resort to any terms/concepts in 'perceiving SELF'. It's just needless.

BeingIs: Yes, good for you! Such profoundness will automatically deepen as you continue your noticing. It does not require any ideas or conclusions to be reached to know SELF. Knowing SELF is so direct that it's analogous to have a capability to see without having to explain it to anyone. Another example is, when you get to taste the flavor of lemon for the first time, you just know it, it's that simple. There is no need for explanation and you don't need to explain the taste to others. You don't need to use ideas or concepts to formulate your knowing. Such knowing is direct. 'Perceiving SELF' is just a convenient expression in words, knowing SELF goes beyond "perceiving", it does not require seeing anything to know SELF. Even if you don't see anything, like that in dreamless sleep, you already know SELF.

A few moments later, dream episode seems to arise in your consciousness, you seem to see something, you seem to feel something, whatever you see and whatever you feel is none other than SELF. Without seeing anything, without feeling anything, SELF is already known. Seeing something, feeling something, the same SELF is known. So, there is no difference between seeing and not-seeing. Seeing something does not give any advantage. Seeing nothing does not give any disadvantage. The Mind prefers seeing something or feeling something as if these senses offer some kind of comforts and securities. The Mind is very afraid of losing senses. The Mind automatically tries to grab on any kind of senses.

For example, sometimes you wake up around 3AM in the morning with a blank memory, such state of blankness may last for a few moment. To the Mind, such state of blankness is very uncomfortable, almost unbearable. Then, the Mind gets so uncomfortable and it begins to panic, the Mind tries very hard to figure out what's going on: "where is it? What's going on? Who am I?...", Most of you must have experienced such panic before. This is exactly the effect of the Mind functioning, the Mind tries desperately to figure out what is going on. Then, a few moments later, memories such as "I am Mr. ABC living with a family with a wife and 2 children, and living in a place called XYZ" rise up, only when such memories arise then the Mind feels comfortable and at ease.

I know most of you had experience similar to that. It doesn't have to be waking up from deep sleep, sometimes, regaining senses from a coma has the same experience. The effect of the Mind relies on rational senses as support to feel comfortable. The Mind is very afraid of having no rational support. Why do you fear death? You don't actually fear the death of the body, you don't actually fear the disappearance of the so-called "life", actually, the fear comes from the Mind fearful of losing consciousness. SELF has no fear of death because there is no beginning and no end for SELF. The concept of "death" is an imagination.

The Mind falls into such imagination and afraid of losing consciousness seemingly belonged to a person called "me". Whenever you can sense the fear, you see the Mind functioning. As Infinite Radiant Energy, SELF automatically manifests energetic effect of having consciousness or having some kind of rational senses. But SELF does not need the energetic effect of consciousness or senses. SELF could be without time, without sight, and without any senses. No problem!

For example, the light bulb does not need to emit light. If the light bulb does not emit light, it does not mean that something has been lost. The glow of a light bulb does not equal anything achieved. With or without emitting light, a light bulb is always a light bulb. Likewise, SELF does not need to have the effect of consciousness. If SELF doesn't sense or be aware, SELF loses nothing. The effect of senses or the effect of being aware does not mean achievement.

Let me caution you: Please do not deliberately seek a state of no-consciousness as an achievement. No, such deliberate seeking will not achieve anything. Such deliberate effort may trick the Mind to fall into more tricky illusions. Effect of consciousness and effect of the Mind comes and goes like wind comes and goes. Such natural energetic effects is harmless unless you take them seriously. Such coming and going does not affect SELF at all. Please enjoy such seemingly coming and seemingly going as funny shows of SELF. Don't take the shows seriously.

That is all you can do. It sounds like I am talking about a mystic theory. Actually, I am talking about unconditional love of SELF without having to quote a single word of "love".

[sophiaepsiche]

Inconscio, Conscio, Metaconscio. La mappa dell’evoluzione interiore.

INCOSCIENZA DI SE’ – distruttivi - ATTENZIONE FUORI / identificazione materiale

psicopatia: materialismo estremo – distruttivo esterno - carnefice fisico (attenzione esterna e dispersa, identificazione dispersa nella materia: l’altro come oggetto, nessun rimorso, freddezza anche per le conseguenze, pensiero meccanico inconsapevole)

narcisismo maligno: empatia esclusivamente cognitiva – distruttivo esterno - carnefice di tipo psicologico, è un bugiardo seriale e un manipolatore senza scrupoli, vendicativo per necessità identificativa. Identificazione insicura e dipendente dalla materia, dagli altri, dal valore sociale, l’altro è come un oggetto, rimorso cognitivo senza alcun pentimento effettivo. Ha una netta distinzione tra dentro e fuori ossia doppi standard, che lo rendono molto ingiusto. (Attenzione esterna e dispersa, identificazione con il solo corpo, caos mentale, usa prevalentemente il pensiero meccanico subconscio). L’unica via d’uscita è far salire il dolore da cui tanto abilmente si protegge con il controllo. Spesso diventa vittima del male stesso che vuole infliggere, soprattutto se sceglie la vittima ‘sbagliata’: una persona non manipolabile, empatica ma forte ed integra, un praticante spirituale o addirittura un contemplativo, in tal caso viene punito dalla vita e dal karma quasi istantaneamente. Purtroppo solo il dolore, che corrisponde alla riapertura della ferita narcisistica, può risvegliare un intento di cambiamento sincero, seppur lieve ed è per questo che madre natura cerca di avvicinare narcisisti ed empatici. Gli uni possono finalmente affacciarsi al dolore, gli altri devono rendersi immuni dalla manipolazione ed imparare ad accostare la loro naturale compassione alla saggezza, al distacco e alla prudenza (vedi nota a fine articolo).

narcisismo vittimistico: contenimento della distruttività. Poco rimorso per gli altri che si puniscono manipolandoli quasi esclusivamente col vittimismo/sensi di colpa. Invidiano i creativi in modo sottile e mostrano una sottile violenza, un’aggressività sottotono. Sono ancora troppo dipendenti dagli altri e dall’esterno.   (Attenzione bassa e dispersa, identificazione con il solo corpo, debolezza mentale, pensiero meccanico subconscio).

uscita dal narcisismo distruttivo esterno: in un tentativo di contenimento maggiore della distruttività, si passa ad essere auto-distruttivi – vittime dei narcisisti – deboli – manipolabili - co-dipendenti e dipendenti. La svolta è cambiare lo strumento introducendo la consapevolezza oltre al pensiero meccanico, ossia alzando l’attenzione, così inizia l’uso della capacità critica esterna. La morale è ancora eteronoma e vacillante, ma comincia a cambiare grazie alla consapevolezza. Inizia ad accennarsi un’identificazione più circoscritta, eliminando e purificando la distruttività.

- crisi importante -

CONOSCENZA DELLA VITA – creativi esterni - ATTENZIONE FUORI e NEL CORPO / identificazione col corpo: materia/vita

biofilia: consapevolezza e pensiero meccanico/ragionativo. Avendo una maggiore dimestichezza con la consapevolezza esterna, si distaccano naturalmente dai valori malsani del mondo e degli altri. Cominciano a puntare l’attenzione dentro, nel corpo, si ritirano spesso e si purificano in solitudine. Con l’attenzione puntata al corpo, riconoscono in sé e nell’altro la sacralità della vita, diventando finalmente biofili. Inizia l’equanimità, il rispetto della vita, l’empatia connaturata, la morale autonoma. Amano la vita e la creatività. Esprimono i propri talenti. Sono individui psicologicamente ‘maturi’ e relativamente sicuri. Possono stagnare a questo livello per molto tempo sentendosi arrivati o realizzati. Le rimanenti tracce di narcisismo sono sub-consce. Quando salgono al conscio sono spesso giustificate perché ritenute giuste e naturali.

- crisi importante -

CONOSCENZA MENTE/CORPO – purificazione elementi distruttivi interni ATTENZIONE NELLA MENTE / identificazione con la vita/mente

pratica spirituale: la conoscenza della mente rende conscio l’inconscio ed ogni traccia di narcisismo residuo. Vera meditazione: consapevolezza interiore molto perseverante. Si usa in prevalenza il pensiero ragionativo e quello semplicemente organizzativo e si comincia a scartare e trascendere quello meccanico.

crisi detta ‘notte dei sensi’ – profonda purificazione dei sensi e degli attaccamenti che porta al battesimo nello spirito – satori – risveglio – illuminazione.

CONOSCENZA DI SE’ - contemplativi ATTENZIONE NELLO SPIRITO / identificazione mente/spirito.

Dopo aver reso conscia la propria natura in quanto coscienza pura o spirito, sorge la capacità di samadhi, di contemplazione,  di nididhyasana, tutti sinonimi di silenzio mentale protratto con attenzione molto alta. Questo rende possibile la conoscenza dello spirito, detta anche consapevolezza della consapevolezza, auto-attenzione, atma-vichara, auto-indagine, dimorare nel sé, nel silenzio, nel nous,  nella vacuità, nello spirito santo.  I contemplativi possono passare un lungo periodo in cui fanno avanti e indietro con l’attenzione, tra mente e sé. Il divario e il conflitto che emerge da questo andirivieni serve ad aumentare il desiderio di raccoglimento. Si scopre che l’unica soluzione è di restare il più possibile nel silenzio a prescindere dalle situazioni esterne, durante ogni tipo di attività o inattività.  L’ego (o il narcisismo) comincia a morire del tutto.

crisi detta ‘notte dell’anima’ – ultima purificazione

METACOSCIENZA DI SE’ – identificazione naturale col sé.

La meta-coscienza di sé è ora naturale e senza sforzo, si è uno col divino e manifestazione piena del divino: l’evoluzione è completa. La consapevolezza è imperante e il pensiero non è più psichico. Nessuna differenziazione è più presente tra sé e gli altri, si conosce l’Uno in ognuno, il Sé di tutti. L’amore e la saggezza sono connaturati. Si porta in manifestazione l’infinito potenziale solitamente limitato dall’ego.

ps. il termine ‘narcisismo’ qui si riferisce in generale all’identificazione estroflessa e non centrata nel nostro vero sé. Invito però tutti i miei lettori che sono perlomeno biofili ed empatici, se non praticanti spirituali, a farsi una cultura psicologica sul fenomeno del ‘narcisismo maligno’, che io conosco per esperienza diretta e da ‘sopravvissuta’ e che non posso descrivere come uno psicologo. Per noi della ‘triade luminosa’ è importantissimo capire come trattare con la ‘triade oscura’, è contro-intuitivo e spesso sembra andar contro ad alcune nozioni spirituali un po’ troppo teoriche e romantiche. Di noi, solo il contemplativo si salva senza alcuno sforzo dagli attacchi narcisistici, per gli altri c’è davvero bisogno di conoscenza per riconoscerli e relazionarsi (se proprio inevitabile), c’è bisogno di forza, integrità e libertà dai condizionamenti di stampo spirituale.

[raccontidialiantis]

S'abbottona lentamente

Cela con grazia i suoi seni. Nasconde al mondo il suo bellissimo tesoro. Lo fa con un gesto naturale, antico e pieno di pudore. Non sa che così facendo recita una stupenda commedia d'amore: una mini-rappresentazione a beneficio unicamente di due fortunatissimi occhi. Che ha selezionato dopo mille paure.

È infatti tutto riservato a un solo uomo. Colui che lei ha scelto, perché è sempre la donna a decidere quale sarà il fortunato che la amerà, la onorerà, la difenderà e l'accompagnerà nel tempo. E lei di converso lo farà godere di sé. Non sa quanto è preziosa per lui. Si schernisce. Ma lei è il suo vero, unico diamante. Lu ne è conscio. E intanto gli brillano gli occhi quando la guarda.

RDA

[susieporta]

UN AUGURIO CONSCIO DI FINE ANNO

Dissoda il terreno, togli i sassi, togli le erbacce, fertilizza e bagna la terra, pianta i tuoi semi...

E poi spera in un buon raccolto.

La prima parte spetta a te, la seconda all'universo.

Chi vive solo sperando, senza fare niente, pianta i semi della delusione.

Come augurio di buon anno ti auguro di preparare il tuo terreno e di fare una buona una semina...

Il resto non dipende da te.

Rilassati.

Buon Anno a tutti.

Roberto Potocniak

[maybeimamuppet]

Do you believe Regina is redeemable?

ohhhhh buddy the whole can of worms this opened

to make a long story short: yes.

to make a long story longer with a tw for mentioned child abuse/neglect and suicidal ideation

i think every iteration of her deserves a shot at redemption.

canonically regina is at most seventeen years old. yes, she’s almost an adult. yes, she does and has done despicable things at this age and even younger. but she is still young. she is still a child. to completely, black and white say, that she is at her core an unredeemable monster who doesn’t even deserve to try does a complete and utter disservice both to her and the people she’s hurt in her past. to say she will be the way she is forever negates all the suffering she goes through and puts others through in canon, misguided though it is.

regina is also basically the textbook for a personality disorder and specifically bpd. borderline is (in a lot of cases i’ll say rightfully) very harshly judged. there’s a lot of stigma around it and cluster b disorders as a whole. but bpd is also caused for the most part by neglect and abuse in childhood. we only ever see regina’s dad in 2004 canon, for a single scene, crying over regina wearing the rabbit halloween costume. he’s completely absent in both the stage show and 2024. and looking at her mom, it is very obvious something has happened to the both of them and that this child (or neither of these children if you include kylie from 2004) is/are not getting the emotional guidance, support, and attention they need. who knows what happened before canon as well. who knows what her dad was like.

speaking as someone who also probably has bpd (which i discovered through doing research to write her better) i can say it is a terrifying experience. i’m lucky in that i’m able to resist my compulsions most of the time, but having them at all is beyond terrifying sometimes. i am filled with rage on a hair trigger these days. sometimes i’m able to process this anger in a healthy way. i can rationalize. i can think through it. i can calm myself down.

other times i can’t. i can only glance through the mean girls tag on ao3 now because if i look at numbers or think for too long about it, i compare the new fics that have come with the 2024 movie to things i’ve written. to see these fics that, while fantastic, are much shorter or don’t have as much effort put into them as what i do get literally ten times the love does hurt, as much as i adore and appreciate what i do get.

by nature with my other illnesses i have to pour my entire heart and soul, blood sweat and tears into every word i put on a page. every fic i’ve done is a piece of me that sometimes feels like i’ve torn it out of myself and given you to read. sometimes seeing that get 150 hits compared to a cadina fic that’s half as long (but again, still amazing! they all deserve every hit and kudos and comment and whatever) getting up to 1, 10, 50k hits just latches to a particularly sadistic part of my brain and it’s all i can think about for weeks. and it makes me want to quit. either writing or living.

and that sounds dramatic because IT IS. and i’m fully aware having those thoughts and urges is irrational. i don’t want them. i miss feeling like i have a community on ao3 (i absolutely have one here and i love all of you in my little circle with my entire being.) i hate having to avoid reading about my favorite characters because it does that much damage to my mental health. i am afraid that it takes something that small for me to have these massive thoughts.

all of that to say is that bpd makes switches easier to flip. it makes bad choices easier to make.

the reason i’m still here. the reason i still write and i haven’t deleted everything i’ve ever done. the reason i haven’t done a number of other things that i won’t say because they aren’t really relevant. is because i have chosen not to. it is incredibly hard sometimes. but it is still a choice you have to consciously make. you have to consciously decide to hurt someone. you have to consciously decide to say things. you have to consciously decide to humiliate your best friend in front of countless other people.

regina did make those choices.

and for that she does deserve consequences. she deserves repercussions and she deserves flack. she does not deserve to get hit by a bus (except for it being the catalyst to help her realize she needs to change) or being force fed to reach her biggest insecurity and fear without her knowledge.

she made the earliest choice when she was either eleven or twelve years old, that we know of.

that is a child.

regina is a child who is clearly suffering in some way we don’t see. she absolutely should be held accountable for what she does and what she has done. but she also deserves to be allowed to apologize and try to make amends. she deserves to be allowed the opportunity for growth and to heal and to become a functional adult who is capable of meaningful relationships and success. she deserves to be allowed to try.

does she deserve immediate or any forgiveness? no. the people around her also deserve the ability to make the choices with her that they will. she has caused harm, people are allowed to process the harm she has put upon them however they will.

but she deserves the opportunity to make it a choice for them.

she deserves a chance at redemption.

[kailasakalpataruchinese]

与我们一起庆祝吠陀新年，由印度最高教皇尼希亚南达最高上师主持的特别达显

2023年4月14日 当天的日程安排如下(请注意:

以下所有时间均为北京时间): 晚:00 - 9:00 吠陀新年介绍; 晚:00 - 10:00 OM颁奖典礼; 晚10:00 - 10:30 贵宾介绍; 晚上10:30 - 12:30��播达善;新年祝福;寺庙开幕;寺院和开示中心周年纪念; 晚上12:30 - 1:30 莲花足浴供奉Pratyaksha Pada Puja， & 凌晨1：30-2：30点等重称量仪式Tulabharam

~尼希亚南达翻译小组

原文链接： https://www.facebook.com/photo?fbid=792007648958735&set=a.306078404218331

联繫凯拉萨华人世界的方式： 微信：14595087（Ma Kailasa） 联繫凯拉萨台湾的方式： 台灣凱拉薩 Line ID : kailasa_taiwan phone:0919-132331 phone:0910-880195

[irondadidontfeelsogood]

Middle of the Night

cw: vomit

—————

It’s 2:17 in the morning when Peter wakes up with violent urgency, stumbling to the toilet in near-complete darkness. He’s not even entirely awake when he starts to vomit, his whole body trembling and coated in sweat. The nausea is so bad that he has to brace himself against the sink beside him to avoid braining himself on the back of the toilet every time he heaves.

Eventually, his legs can’t support him anymore, and he sprawls out on the cold tile floor, panting. He starts to gain awareness as he lies there, and he begins to reflect on how much actually just fucking came out of him. His stomach roars underneath his sweaty palm, giving him a heads up that there’s somehow more where that came from.

It takes almost all of his energy to sit up and hang his head over the water where he lets the spit just fall from his mouth. He guesses it was adrenaline that made him be able to run to the bathroom, because he’d never be able to do that right now. So, he sits there, feeling his dinner coil back up from wherever it thought it was going.

When it re-fills his stomach, the nausea washes over him again, and he can feel his face go grey. With a soft whimper, he wraps his arms around his middle and prepares for another go. Right on cue, his stomach lurches, sending another wave of partially digested seafood splashing into the murky water below.

The pressure makes him feel like he has to burp, so he tries, but he ends up violently puking instead. Go figure.

He hears an awful splattering noise that indicates he failed to aim in the darkness, and the heat of embarrassment claws up from his chest to his neck and flushed cheeks.

He lets his stomach rid itself of everything it needs to, only opening his mouth in the general direction of the toilet and just letting the puke spill out. It’s not his finest moment, he’ll admit, but he doesn’t feel good enough to care right now. On the other hand, he really hopes FRIDAY doesn’t snitch on him. He doesn’t necessarily want Tony to find him in his underwear, throwing up all the expensive food he’d just bought for him not even seven hours ago.

When his stomach feels relatively okay, he wipes his mouth and flushes the toilet. He struggles to stand more than he’s willing to admit, but when he’s braced against the sink once more, he blindly reaches over to turn on the light and brave the damage from earlier.

He winces at the sudden onslaught of light, and when his eyes finally adjust, he freezes completely.

Because what the actual hell.

Not only is there some vomit on the seat and each side of the floor beside the toilet, but also all over the wall behind it and on the porcelain lid he’d frantically flipped up in his adrenaline-fueled panic.

The sight is enough to make him suddenly retch over the sink, thankfully only bringing up a few pathetic splashes of stomach acid and bile. His arms shake where he’s holding himself up, and when he glances in the mirror, he hardly recognizes himself.

He knows that if he looks over at the toilet again, he’ll start the cycle anew, so he actually gives up. He hopes Tony will forgive him for just going back to bed, because that’s what he’s doing. Needs to do, really. He’s getting lightheaded, and if he passes out, FRIDAY really will snitch.

He drags himself back to bed, shivering even under two thick blankets. With his last strand of consciousness, he turns off his alarm for school in the morning. At the very least, he’ll miss his first class cleaning his bathroom, anyway.

Not even a second later, he’s out cold. He doesn’t so much as stir until hours later when he wakes to the sound of someone’s distant voice. He groans, pressing his face against the mattress beneath him. The voice grows more insistent, echoing. He’s vaguely aware of the fact that his stomach feels like it’s rotting, but he can’t quite do anything about it yet.

Finally, the voice reaches his ears at a somewhat normal volume, and the rude reality of consciousness envelops him. The memories of last night all flood in, making him cringe and feel sort of like throwing up right where he’s lying.

“Peter,” the voice says again. Peter now knows it’s Tony. He hums, drawn out and tortured, letting Tony know he heard him. “C’mon, Pete, what are you doing? You were supposed to be up an hour ago.” He steps further into the room.

“Mm...turned off m’alarm,” he rasps, throat still raw from his lovely encounter with the toilet.

“Why? And God, kid, what died in here?” Tony suddenly asks, probably looking around for a forgotten pizza box or something similar. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I did,” he mumbles, face still buried in his sheets.

“Huh?”

“The smell s’my bathroom,” he admits, feeling much too shitty to be mortified like he knows he’ll be later. “I wouldn’t go n’there, though, I kinda threw up all over the place.”

“What?”

“Yeah. M’about to clean it, don’ worry,” he announces, honestly feeling more like he’s just going to add to the mess.

“Like hell you are, kid. Stay put,” Tony says, disregarding Peter’s warning and swinging the cracked bathroom door open wider. He flicks on the light and lets out a string of curses under his breath.

He then closes the door abruptly, turning back to Peter, who hasn’t moved an inch. In all honesty, he feels like he might hurl if he does.

“That was—okay, wow.”

“Told you not to look.”

“Peter, that is so not the point right now,” Tony replies, walking over and perching on the edge of Peter’s bed. “Why didn’t you get FRI to tell me you were sick?”

Peter groans a bit at the mention of his condition. “Dunno.”

“It’s like you’re begging me to re-install the baby monitor protocol.”

“I really jus’ wanted to sleep. Didn’t feel good. M’sorry.”

Tony sighs, reaching out to brush the curls back from Peter’s forehead. “You don’t actually owe me an apology, kid. It just makes me worried that you were alone and that sick.”

Peter wants to reply and have an emotionally intelligent conversation, but he’s starting to get that tight feeling in the back of his throat again. Nausea stirs in the pit of his belly. He’s not sure if he has anything left to throw up, but he doesn’t want to take that chance.

“Um. Tony,” he strains. “I feel...” He can’t say the actual words or it’ll push him over the edge. Might be too late, anyway.

Tony thankfully gets the message and doesn’t waste any time. He swipes the trash can from beside Peter’s desk and has it under Peter’s chin in record time. It’s a good thing, too, because Peter was right. As soon as he moved a single muscle, his stomach took that as an open invitation.

Despite the horrendous amount of stomach contents that he’d already vacated in the middle of the night, he’s throwing up again. Only this time, it’s not so easy. Rather than being able to let the sickness run it’s course and pump him empty, he’s choking, and hiccuping, and tearing his throat up with every go.

“Jeez, kid.”

Peter wants to say I know, or maybe please just kill me, but all that comes out is more burning hot puke. He feels Tony start to rub a calloused hand between his shoulder blades, and he has to admit to himself that he wishes he had this earlier today. Maybe he does want the stupid protocol back.

Or maybe he’s just sensitive from being so sick. All he really knows is that he feels miserable, and he’s glad Tony came to check on him. There would probably be another mess to deal with if he hadn’t.

After a few more unsatisfying heaves, he stares blankly at the pool sitting in the bottom of the bin and tries to catch his breath. Tony gets up from the bed, and Peter feels a sudden, childlike urge to cry out for him. His future self will probably be grateful that he doesn’t have the energy to do so.

Tony comes back, anyway. He has a handful of toilet paper, and when he sits back down, he actually wipes the sick from Peter’s mouth. It’s parental, and Peter’s so gross, but Tony doesn’t seem to care. Peter must have a fever, because he’s about to cry over it.

The tears overflow despite his efforts to blink them away, and suddenly the bin disappears from his lap.

“You’re okay, Pete,” Tony soothes, collecting Peter’s still trembling body and holding him close to his chest. His hand curves gently up and down Peter’s spine.

“M’really sorry about th’ bathroom,” Peter murmurs, finally feeling the extent of his embarrassment.

“You don’t owe me an apology, kid. Anyone who’s sick enough to do that kind of damage gets a free pass.” Peter groans, feeling a bit sorry for himself. He can’t help it. Something about the way Mr. Stark is treating him makes him realize he should’ve gotten help.

“I think it was the sushi,” he murmurs. “Tasted a little funny.”

“Yeah, well, next time seafood tastes a little funny, maybe don’t proceed to eat twice your body weight in raw salmon.”

Peter groans. “I don’t think I’ll eat anything ever again.”

Tony breathes out a quiet laugh. They stay like that for a few minutes, listening to the birds outside Peter’s window. He’s glad he decided not to tough it out and go to school. A cramp reaffirms his thoughts.

“My stomach hurts,” he moans, pulling back to wrap his arms around his middle.

“I bet it does. You want some Pepto?”

He shakes his head. “I’d throw it up. I always do.” It’s true. Almost every time he’s ever taken Pepto, it ends up spewing back out of him almost immediately.

“Okay, maybe some Sprite? We gotta get some liquids back in you, kiddo.”

Peter thinks for a second and then nods, letting himself curl back into bed. Tony pats his knee through the blanket and stands up.

“Good. I’ll be right back.” He crosses the room, stopping at the door. “Anything else you want me to get while I’m down there?”

“Um. Maybe another trash bag? This one is making me nauseous.”

“I’m right there with ya, pal. Give me like, two minutes. Hang tight.”

Peter just hugs his stomach and groans, drowning in his misery. He wonders if it’s actually this bad or if he’s gotten dramatic, but for his ego’s sake, he’s probably dying. He can barely lift his head when Tony finally comes back.

He greets Tony with a whimper. A literal whimper. He’s going to hate himself later, but for now, he just wants Tony to wave some magic wand and give him a new stomach.

“I know, kid. Go ahead and sit up for me.”

Peter regrets ever sinking back against his pillow, because now sitting up sounds like the single most unachievable thing in the world.

“If I move, I’ll barf,” he replies, only half joking.

“Then we’ll ride it out and try the Sprite when you’re done.”

Peter groans, knowing he’s never going to win this battle. He begins to lift his head and eventually his torso, feeling the ache of his stomach muscles from overuse. The motion makes him very dizzy, probably from dehydration if he’s honest.

He holds up his hand, blocking Tony from bringing the glass to his lips.

“C’mon, don’t fight me, Pete,” Tony says, almost pleading.

Peter shakes his head barely. “One second...tryin’ not to puke.”

“Ah. Got it.”

Blessedly, Tony doesn’t push the glass on him again. He sits there swallowing convulsively for a minute before he can even open his eyes. When he does, he can’t help but look at Tony with open misery.

“I know you don’t feel good, kiddo, I’m sorry,” he says, seemingly reading Peter’s mind. They’ve gotten to that point apparently. He places a steady hand between Peter’s shoulder blades and rubs in a circle. “I really think you’ll feel better if you sip on this. Just try for me, Pete.”

Peter eyes the bubbling liquid and tries not to feel entirely disgusted. In a moment of pure bravery, he reaches for the cup and takes three whole sips. It’s cooling against his raw throat, and he’s grateful to get the taste of bile out of his mouth at least a little.

“That’s it, you’re doing good. You can take a break if you want to.”

So, he does. He sets the cup down on his nightstand and lays back down while Tony replaces the bin liner for him. His head swims a little as if he’s drunk, and he gets the sinking feeling that his Sprite victory won’t last too long.

“Mm...Tony,” he mumbles, snaking a hand under his t-shirt and trying to magically settle his stomach through touch.

“Yeah?”

“Can you turn on the TV? I really need to think about something other than my stomach for, like, two seconds.”

Tony gives him a sympathetic smile, grabbing the remote and turning on The Office. He uses his foot to scoot the trash can back to where it was and sets the remote back down. Peter starts to feel himself drifting off already.

“I’ll get out of your hair. Please actually tell FRIDAY if you need me, okay? I’m gonna check in every now and then anyway.” Peter nods, curling into himself. “Alright, I’m gonna go call Midtown, tell them you’re not feeling so hot.” Peter just nods again, blinks getting longer and longer.

The voices on the TV get jumbled and muted as he’s pulled into a state of half-consciousness fueled by fever. His dreams are far-off and confusing, often nightmarish and gory. When he wakes with a start, he wonders if it was a nightmare or a memory. Sometimes he worries that patrol has doomed him to a lifetime of night terrors.

It takes him several minutes to come to and make sense of the noises in his room. He eventually fumbles for the remote and turns off Netflix, flopping back down onto his mattress.

He’s coated in sweat, battling the swirling in his stomach yet again. He has no idea how much time has passed. It’s unsettling, and he finds himself really wanting company. His mouth is also bone try, so he grabs the Sprite with a trembling hand before speaking.

“Hey, FRI?” he rasps.

“Yes, Mr. Parker?”

“Can you, um. Get Tony?”

“Alerting Boss. Would you like me to deliver a message?”

Peter shivers at the condensation from the glass running down his forearm. “Um...just tell him I don’ feel good.” He knows he sounds like a child, but his head feels very funny and he doesn’t quite know what else to say.

He must be truly dehydrated, because once he starts drinking, the sips turn to swallows, and the swallows turn to desperate gulping, and before he knows it, the cup is empty. He winces almost instantly at the new sloshing feeling in his stomach. Maybe he fucked up.

He can’t even breathe in without heaving on the exhale, and in a fraction of a second, he’s refilled the glass. He promptly sets it down and leans over, vomiting into the trash bin.

Right on cue, Tony knocks on the door and cracks it open just a tad. When he peeks in, another wet retch is climbing up Peter’s throat.

“Ah, shit,” he mutters under his breath, crossing the room to pick up the bin so Peter doesn’t fall over with the effort of heaving. He’s grateful, because the blood rushing to his head was really starting to make his vision swirl.

Tony is silently rubbing his back, and Peter tries not to be too gross. It’s sort of a lost cause, especially when he misses a little bit and pukes on his hand that’s gripping the bin. Of course, that sets off his nausea all over again.

It takes him a long while to catch his breath. He has to close his eyes and forget where he is so he can stop gagging.

“You want some Sprite?” Tony asks, unintentionally sending Peter into his worst retching fit yet. “Okay, so that’s a hard no. I’ll let you have a minute to breathe.”

“It’s—,” Peter tries, cut off by a gurgling retch. He greedily sucks in air, heaving from deep in his belly on the exhale. “Not Sprite.”

“You wanna try some juice or something instead?”

“No, I mean—that’s-” More vomit. “I threw up the Sprite.”

“Yeah, I can see that, kid.”

Peter’s never going to be able to explain if he keeps imagining the glass. He’s panting heavily over the soiled trash. “No...I drank it all,” he strains. “That’s puke.”

Just like magic, Peter’s empty stomach finds more to shove up his throat. It trickles pathetically against the plastic.

Tony stands there, processing, and then:

“Oh. Oh, Pete.”

And then Tony’s visibly trying to figure out what to do about the full cup of vomit on the bedside table. Peter feels so embarrassed all of a sudden, and if he had the energy to escape the tower and go be by himself, he would. He knows he wouldn’t make it far.

“M’so sorry.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t have done it if you had any other choice, kid. I’m just glad it’s not on the carpet.” That makes Peter feel a little better, actually. Not enough to actually make a difference, of course, but it’s better than nothing.

“When’s it gonna stop?” he breathes out, barely keeping his composure.

Tony lets out a short sigh. “I wish I could tell you. Hopefully soon.”

Peter wilts, not feeling optimistic about that at all. Last time he caught the flu, he spent the entire weekend hurling just about anywhere he deemed moderately appropriate. He hadn’t even felt as bad then.

“I’m gonna get rid of this. Do you want me to bring anything back?”

Peter takes a moment to think and then shakes his head. There’s nothing he can imagine that would ease his misery. The only thing he can bring himself to do is pray for sleep to take him, and even that’s a battle.

“Alright. Again, call FRI if you need me for anything at all, okay?”

“‘kay.”

Tony leaves him to what’s sure to be his slow death. He turns over and begs for sleep, receiving nothing but a lingering stomach ache. He lays awake for over an hour before he finally, blissfully slips into unconsciousness.

—————

A/N: Thank you for reading as always! You rock

[dottssapatrizia]

Bisogna sognare senza porsi limiti, navigando fra il conscio e il subnconscio, come avventurieri inesperti e curiosi. Se poi i sogni si confondono con le fantasie e si tocca l’ambito erotico, bisogna trovare il modo di farlo in bilico fra purezza e peccato, talvolta aspirando alla prima ma lasciandosi piacevolmente tentare dai secondi.